Sweet Waiting
by Commander Fiction
Summary: Coast Guard AU. Taking place during the 1950s, coast guard, Jim Kirk, hits rock bottom after a mission gone wrong, and his favorite Southerner is there to back him up. But trouble is soon to come when Kirk saves a man by the name of John Harrison. Jim&Bones pairing. I don't know where this came from. Writer's blocks are a strange thing guys. Let me know what you think.
1. Beckoning of the Ocean

**Sweet Waiting**

 **Chapter 1: Beckoning of the Ocean**

Ocean waves collide into sandy beaches, crashing up jagged rocks and sending breezes of salty air towards the city. The sun sits low, barely hanging on its hinges just above the riveting waters. Clouds are vacant from the sky, letting the stars begin to pierce the rich blue of the night.

Just a mile from the city, and edging towards the black abyss is James Tiberius Kirk, letting the high waves and roaring waters call to him, beckoning him to the icy ocean of February. The night air is still and the sun is providing the last warmth of the day.

To the right, boats are lined up, tied securely to the docks, but rocking gently in the water. And just further down is the Coast Guard Station, lights still on and several cars parked outside.

"Thought I might find you here."

The voice is of thick Georgian accent, and the drawl is just heavy enough to bring a wave of southern hospitality to Jim's feet.

"Clear night."

Jim nods, his voice still rough and dry from the night before.

"You know you can't blame yourself for that."

He can only snort a laugh that disguises his sob of utter brokenness. Of course he can blame himself. He always can.

His one and only southerner, Leonard McCoy, or who he likes to call "Bones", sighs, boots shifting in Californian sand, "Why don't I take you home, we'll get some drinks and settle down."

Jim squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose, blocking out the sudden screams of memories hounding his thoughts.

Suddenly there's a sturdy hand on his shoulder, anchoring his mind to the present. The hand then slowly turns him away from the ocean and into an embrace. His head is guided to strong shoulders with one of Bones' arms slung around his neck and the other around his waist, leaving Jim to grab the front of the southerner's shirt and with his other arm, hook around Bones' armpit.

Then, he's actually shivering, despite the fact there's no winter draft blowing through, just salty airs that he's so used to, he shouldn't shiver.

"It's alright Jimbo; it's not your fault."

A sob rips through his throat violently and Bones' hand finds its way to soft blond hair, kneading the younger man's head.

"It's my job Bones." Jim whispers hoarsely, biting his lower lip to stop it from trembling, his chest is already shaking with sobs.

Bones hums quietly, "I know, but that doesn't mean you get to save everyone. Sometimes you lose people."

Jim shakes his head into Bones' shoulder.

They shouldn't have lost anybody. The mission had started out terribly, with them scrambling just to get over the bar, almost being pitch pulled due to their frantic haste. By the time they got there, the ship had already been flipped over, due to the constant crashing of waves. There wasn't much they could do, but then they realized that the lifeboats had been deployed. So they began their search for them. They managed to find one lifeboat, with five people huddled on it. Only one person made it off of that lifeboat. That one survivor said that there were seventeen people on that boat, and everyone made it on a lifeboat. But Jim only saved one person.

"Just let it out kid." Bones soothes and Jim grips his shirt tighter.

One person. John Harrison he believed was the name. He can't believe that out of seventeen people, only one made it out alive. That one person now has to live with losing all those people, surviving that awful event. All because he didn't get there in time. All because the first person they pulled from that lifeboat was John Harrison and after that, the lifeboat was flipped and the people plummeted beneath the dark waves of the night.

Jim shakes involuntarily, "I let them die."

"Kid, there was nothing more you could've done." Bones replies softly, grasping Jim's shoulders to keep him at an arm's length away.

The blond nods, sniffling quietly.

"Alright, c'mon, let's get you inside. You're shaking like a leaf in the wind." Bones comments, stripping himself of his old hoodie and bringing it down over Jim's head, "Bones, please." Jim protests, but Bones shakes his head, "I'm getting you warmed up."

Bones slings an arm around his shoulders and guides him away from the beckoning ocean tides, with the sun riding low behind them, casting long shadows before them. Jim sighs and lets himself be lead away, warmth surging through his body, with the sweatshirt's sleeves running well past his knuckles and the sides extra baggy on his slim frame.

His best friend takes him to the old pickup truck, even opening the door for him and placing an experienced hand on his back to make sure he climbs in. Bones then scrambles into the driver's seat, jamming overused keys into the ignition and letting the engine purr.

There's only silence between them as Jim dries his tears with a large sleeve and Bones focuses on the road, the San Diego beach disappearing with the sunset. Soon enough the stars begin to peek through black space, glinting gently in the night.

"Want a drink?" Bones prompts, but Jim shakes his head, letting his shoulders sag and his hands to fall into his lap motionless.

He hears Bones sigh and a scratching sound as the southerner itches his beard.

"Okay, we'll go home then."

The engine hums the whole way they, Bones letting the truck coast through the deserted streets country side lanes. Then he pulls towards the city lights and to their shared apartment.

Bones kills the engine casts Jim a weary glance, watching the blond's head loll in sleep.

Next thing Jim knows, Bones is opening his door and unbuckling him from the seat. He groans and goes to swing his legs out, but the southerner is already scooping him from the truck, he finds himself without the energy to protest. Instead, he lets his best friend carry him into their apartment bridal style, Jim's eyelids drooping tiredly in exhaustion.

"Alright, hold on Jimbo." Bones tells him, setting him down onto his wobbling legs to pull out a pair of keys to unlock the door.

Jim hears Bones rattle the keys, and then a clank when they fall to the ground. There's a mumbled 'shit' and Bones scuffling to pick them up and put the key into the lock. With the door ajar, Jim is led inside, hands keeping him steady and guiding him as his eyes fail to focus on his surroundings.

"Warm shower, than bed." Bones decides gruffly, steering him towards their shared bathroom.

Jim's set down on the toilet, and he's vaguely aware of Bones scampering away to find him some clean pajamas to change into before coming back.

"Need help?" Bones asks gently, but Jim shakes his head, "No…no I'll be fine."

Bones nods, "Okay, I'll be right out here if you need anything. And right afterwards you're going to bed; I know you haven't slept since before that night."

That night being Jim's failed mission.

Jim watches Bones scurry away, and sighs. He runs a hand through his ragged hair and leans against the bathroom counter, letting the muscles in his back relax. The blond's been tensed since the night he stepped off the boat, with John Harrison using him as support. Harrison now is probably under medical treatment in the San Diego Hospital, but other than that, Jim has no idea what's going through the man's head. But right now, selfish as it is, he needs to worry about himself. He hasn't been able to take a single bite of food and water only makes his stomach churn. Sleeping is a whole other issue in its self.

He rubs a hand over his face and huffs before beginning to undress himself, not bothering to close the door. Bones will simply open it the second he steps into the shower. Jim then runs the water hot, waiting for the steam to begin to pool out before stepping inside. The water instantly reaches his aching muscles, letting him finally sag in relief. He cleans up slowly, making sure to get every inch of his body clean before turning off the shower and being met with Bones waiting with a towel.

"You alright Jimbo? You were in there for nearly half an hour." Bones inquires, wrapping the towel around his shoulders and sitting him down on the toilet.

Jim nods sleepily, "Yeah, I must've zoned out or something."

Bones purses his lips, examining him closely. Jim's shoulders are hunched over, he's leaning over, elbows on knees, head bowed, water dripping from the tips of his golden hair.

Jim feels a towel begin to massage through his hair, "It's alright, you're tired." He hears Bones' voice murmur somewhere above his head. He closes his eyes, letting Bones' soft rhythmic brushes lull him.

Next thing he knows, Bones is making him stand, towel dropping shamelessly to the floor. It's not the first time Bones has seen him this pathetic and vulnerable, so Jim doesn't mind it, he doesn't even care when his best friend helps him dress.

"There you go, now time for bed kid."

Bones' arms lead him to bed, guiding him onto the cushioned mattress, then blankets being pulled close to his chin.

Jim blinks drowsily up at his friend, grasping his hand, "Thanks Bones." The southerner gives him a smile, "No problem Jim, get some rest now."

He does as he's told. His thoughts begin to ebb away, and the darkness swoops in and clouds his mind. His subconscious can only dream of black waves, beating again the side of his boat, sending her from side to side, tipping and testing her bulk. Water rushes along the decks and the engine begins to sputter and spurt its last efforts. The wheel spins freely, letting the boat be taken by the rising waves. Lights start to flicker out and the only sounds he can hear is the roaring ocean in his ears, making his heart thump loudly in his chest. He clenches the railing and feels the fear grab at lungs, stealing his breath away as the next large wave collides into the boat, sending her rolling into the water, submerged in the cold darkness. When she surfaces he's on the ground, clinging onto the guardrail desperately before the next wave hits, drowning his lungs and filling his vision with the haunted black.

When he surfaces again, he's gasping for breath and is crawling over to the steering wheel, hoping to guide the boat out of this storm. But the next wave isn't as merciful as the last, its sends him overboard, under the power of the ocean's might.

As he struggles to stay afloat, the one person he thinks of before he slips under the surface is Bones, he wants Bones here, no not here, he wants Bones to save him, he needs Bones to save him.

Apparently he'd screamed out to Bones in his sleep, because a warm presence wraps around him and suddenly he's not deserted in the open waters, but curled up on his bed, choking on his own tears and sobs of despair. But Bones is there now, letting Jim press up again his chest.

"You're alright kid." Bones soothes, speaking softly into his damp hair.

Jim's breath hitches, and he grips onto the southerner's loose t-shirt, shaking the memories of the icy waters from his mind.

"It's alright, take your time. I'll be here waiting kid." Bones mutters gently, "I'll always being waiting for you Jim."


	2. Things We Love

**Sweet Waiting**

 **Chapter 2: Things We Love**

There's a bustle in the city, cars gently roaring and humming in the distance. The winter breeze has picked up but that hasn't deterred the people of San Diego from going outside and minding their business. Off to the shores of California, the ocean hasn't stopped its assault against the earth, and the sounds of its howls are even heard from Jim and Bones' shared room.

But not this morning, no, Jim can't hear the ocean when he awakens, cold and pale from his reoccurring nightmares. Instead, it's the sizzling of frying eggs and bacon on the stove that pulls him awake and brings reality down to his feet. But the sweet mouthwatering aroma of breakfast being served drags him from the comforts of his bed, leading him memorized into the kitchen, barely keeping his tongue from rolling out of his mouth like a dog.

"Morning kid." Bones' southern drawl welcomes him and envelops around his ears, drawing him to collapse into the closest kitchen chair he can find, "Hungry kid? I know you haven't eaten much lately." The southerner continues, leaning against the kitchen counter, spatula in one hand as he stirs the eggs around, eyes trained on the crackling bacon over the gas stove.

Jim nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. Bones did all of this for him.

"Good, because if I eat this by myself, I'm surely going to get fat." Bones grumbles warmly, scooping the eggs off of the skillet and into a clean bowl, steam rising steadily from the mound of creamy gold scrambled eggs.

Bones casts a glance over his shoulder to him, "Want something to drink? Orange juice? Water?"

"Water would be just fine." Jim replies, finding his voice raw scraping against the back of his throat like sandpaper.

Bones gives him a weary smile, it's soft and caring, but still stern enough not to show sympathy. Jim doesn't want it, hell he doesn't need sympathy. He just needs to move on, to forget.

The southerner reads him quite easily, stepping away from the stove to stand beside the table, "Ya'know, they say he's making a full recovery at the hospital."

Blue eyes snap up from where they had settled on the edge of the table, quietly admiring the handicraft, his lips part, but no words escape, like he's caught in a trance.

But Bones breaks it with supplying the dreaded name, "John Harrison, at the hospital."

Jim nods, clamping his mouth shut.

"Oh, don't want burn the bacon now do we?" Bones laughs, pulling away from the table and back to the stove to pluck out the crispy strands of bacon, dripping with greasy fat.

Just the smell makes Jim's stomach growl and twist in hunger.

Bones hums from the stove, preparing a plate full of bacon and eggs and a glass of water just for Jim. He can't help but crack a smile when the plate and glass are gracefully placed before him, pillows of steam rising gradually.

"Thanks Bones." Jim says, looking up at his best friend with childlike love. Bones reaches over to ruffle his blond bed head, "Eat up kiddo."

He nods and digs in, letting the rich flavors of southern style cooking take his mind away from calling ocean tides and into heated sunlight, with a soft summer's breeze gently toiling through. Jim sighs and the fork nearly slips between calloused fingers.

Bones seating himself across the table brings his mind back to the present, and he's left staring at his best friend with bright blue eyes.

Their gazes meet, and Jim finds comfort.

They spend the weekend together, Bones even offering to take Monday off, but Jim insisted that he go work in the hospital, that there are people that need him more than he does. Reluctantly Bones had agreed, but forced Jim not to return to the coast guard station until Tuesday. Both Saturday and Sunday night were plagued with nightmares, but Jim simply pushed himself further away from Bones' comforts. He had to get through this himself.

But it isn't until Monday morning things go haywire.

Bones has just left for his medical shift at the hospital, though he'll only be gone until four.

It's around nine am the phone rings.

Jim peers over from the couch, glancing away from the old television and to the ringing telephone in the kitchen. He never answers the phone calls, not because he doesn't know how to work them, but he's just too paranoid to. The only calls he answers are during work, but this, this might be a complete stranger, a telemarketer. Or this could be Bones calling from the hospital.

Sighing, Jim drags himself lazily to his feet, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and Bones' hoodie from the night at the ocean.

He answers the telephone with a huff, eyes fixing to the floor, "Kirk here." His voice is gruff and he wishes he could've cleared his throat before picking up the stupid thing.

 _"Hey Jimbo, its Leonard. For a second there I didn't think you were going to answer the phone."_ Bones replies with a chuckle, warming something within Jim's chest.

Jim laughs a bit himself, "Yeah sorry. What's going on Bones?" He adjusts the phone within his grasp, leaning casually against the wall, using one hand to find the itch behind his ear.

 _"Turns out, John Harrison is at this hospital and he's asking for you."_ The southerner explains, and Jim's heart suddenly clutches tightly, "What-why?"

He can almost hear Bones' shrug through the telephone, _"I don't know Jim, he's just asking to see the person that pulled him from the damned lifeboat, and that's you kid."_

Jim swallows, glancing down to watch his own feet shuffle somewhat worriedly against the tiled floor of the kitchen, "Do I hafta?"

There's a drawn breath from the other side of the line, _"No, no Jim you don't hafta. But I just thought I should let you know. And just consider it. Look kid, this man has been through a lot, and maybe he's just trynna thank you."_

Jim nods, "Okay, yeah I'll think about it."

 _"Alright Jim, I'll see you at four, take care of yourself kid."_

"Okay, bye Bones."

 _"Bye Jim."_

The line goes dead and Jim racks the telephone with a sigh.

What possibly could John Harrison want to see him for? Shouldn't the man just be focusing on getting through this, just like Jim is? But maybe Bones is right, maybe the man just wants to thank him for saving his life.

Jim runs a hand through his hair, finding it a ruffled mess.

Exhaustion overtakes him, but it's not like he's been sleeping much. He grabs the nearest blanket he can find before settling onto the couch. Blue eyes flutter shut slowly, welcoming the blackness that washes over him.

But he finds himself not in the bliss of darkness, but in rich sunlight, tanning his skin and bringing his golden hair to life. His toes dig into soft sands and a wind toils through, filling his lungs. The crashing of the ocean drums in his ears and he feels calmness.

He breathes, inhaling deeply, taking in the salty air. Then, the ocean falls flat and suddenly the icy waters are brushing up against his knees and the sun is soon covered with dark storm clouds.

Jim frowns, glancing up and feeling the first raindrop land on his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns away from the ocean to climb back onto the sandy bank, but the ocean tugs on him, pulling him deeper until he's sucked under, drowning in the bliss of darkness that he once wished for.

He fights against the ocean's force, heaving himself onto a small lifeboat, in the hands of the raging waves. The waters crash over it and he clings onto the edge for dear life.

But then, a searchlight hits him. A boat is motoring towards him, and there's Bones, standing at the railing, gazing down at him with disappointed eyes.

"I told you to be careful Jim." Bones shouts over the roaring water.

Jim stands, knees shaking, "I know Bones, please-I know. I'll be more careful next time, just please help me Bones."

Bones visibly rolls his eyes, "Jim, you gotta learn. You can't trust the ocean. It's gonna kill ya someday."

Jim hangs his head, "It's the things we love the most that kill us in the end right?"

A smirk twitches on Bones' lips, "Guess you're right…" Bones pauses, signaling for the searchlight to be turned off, "Goodbye Jim."

Jim looks ups frantically, seeing Bones slowly fade away, "Bones! Wait come back. Please oh god-Bones! I'm sorry! Okay I'm sorry!"

He comes to with a gasp, a shivering and sweating mess of blankets and limbs. Jim throws the blanket aside, and breathes deeply, willing himself to calm down and breathe through his panic. He clutches the edges of the couch and squeezes his eyes shut.

The panic ebbs slowly from his mind and he's left shaky and exhausted, but the only thing he can think of is an ice cold beer and a nice burning sensation running down his throat. Thank goodness Bones keeps them stocked with alcohol.

He brings out a bottle, or two, or maybe three. Actually make that four. Jim keeps drinking until he can no longer think of black water, sounds of crashing waves, cries for help, and the feeling of wet clothes underneath his fingertips as when he pulled John Harrison aboard.

The fourth bottle hits the floor the second the clock strikes four pm, jolting Jim from his stupor.

Bones. Bones is coming home. Bones can't find him like this, he'd be so disappointed.

Hurried Jim scrambles up from the couch, collecting all the bottles. But in his drunken state, he trips the second his feet hit the tile and he drops all the glass bottles, leaving one of them to shatter across the ground. The other three beer bottles remain intact thankfully.

Growling, Jim gathers himself to his feet and picks up the bottles that aren't broken, to toss into the garbage can, but he pauses, Bones will see them in there. Internally groaning, he heads for the front door, swinging it open and racing down pavement to the closest dumpster, which is only thirty yards from their door.

Luckily, he's back inside before Bones' car pulls into their assigned parking, making Jim's heart begin to thump. There's still a bottle broken on the floor.

Jim locks the front door, which he never does, and leaps into the kitchen, sweeping up the shards.

There's a knock at the door.

"Jim? It's me it's Leonard, wanna open the door?"

Jim freezes up for a second. He can't let Bones open the door with his keys.

"Yeah coming! Gimme a second!" He shouts back and finishes sweeping it, dumping the shards under his own bed to make sure Bones won't find it.

By the time he opens the door, he's breathless and Bones is giving him a raised eyebrow.

"Did you run a marathon or what?"

Jim smirks, "Something like that."

Bones' eyes narrow sharply at him, "Jim, is something wrong?"

The blond hesitates.

Bones sighs, taking Jim by the forearm and guiding him to sit on the couch beside him.

"Kid, you reek of alcohol, I can smell it."

Jim opens his mouth to protest, but Bones shakes his head, "I'm not mad at you. Its okay, I shouldn't have left you alone. That's on me. But you gotta tell me what to do kid."

He swallows, head hanging, and for a moment, it's just them breathing.

"Just stay, for now." His voice cracks and Jim inwardly cringes, but he hears Bones' sigh, and suddenly he's incased in warmth as the southerner pulls the discarded blanket around him.

"Okay, I'll stay as long as you need me kid."

Jim closes his eyes and nods against Bones' chest, breathing in his best friend's scent. Bones smells of sunlight and earth, despite the fact he works all day in a hospital.

Bones' hand glides through his hair, lulling him into sleep. Then the southerner's breath ghosts across his hair, "It's alright, rest kid, I'll be right here when you wake up."


	3. Rescuer

**Sweet Waiting**

 **Chapter 3: Rescuer**

He lets the humming pull his mind away and he lets his fingernails tap rhythmically against the car window. Bones casts a glance his way, but ultimately keeps his eyes focused on the roads as he steers them towards the San Diego Hospital.

"Jim, you don't have to go through with this ya'know?" Bones sighs gently and Jim avoids his eyes, keeping his gaze out towards the city buildings, searching for the coast between large structures.

Jim doesn't reply, just shrugs his shoulders, chewing his lower lip.

"You don't hafta go see John Harrison." Bones continues and Jim can hear the worry in his voice, he can feel the southerner's softening gaze on him.

"Yes I do." He replies quietly.

The trip is silent the rest of the way there. When they park, Jim hops out after a few moments, watching Bones lock up the car, wearing his work scrubs. Jim's just wearing his normal suit, but this time with suspenders because Bones said he was getting thinner and that's why his pants keep sliding off his waist.

He lets his best friend lead him inside. Jim's never been too fond of hospitals, and now isn't any exception. Just the smell of it alone makes his innards tingle.

"You goin' be okay?" Bones asks him and he just nods sternly, "Okay."

Bones takes him to John Harrison's room.

They stand just meters from the doorway, Jim can almost see him through the door's window.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" The southerner says, but Jim shakes his head, "No, I'll be okay Bones."

Bones nods, "Alright then, uhh-when you're done just go to the bar down at-"

"Scotty's?" They say at the same time and both grin.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there Bones." Jim agrees.

"Okay. You took the later shift at the station right?" Bones asks and he nods, "Yeah, I don't go in until after two." He replies with a breathy sigh and Bones gives Jim an eyebrow before proceeding through the door, Jim hot on his heels.

Jim didn't know what to expect when he stepped through the doors, but somehow this isn't what he expected to see. John Harrison is lying on his back, propped up with pillows. There's a long tube going into his arm and a box like machine in the corner, making an incessant beeping noise. The man is pale, almost as white as the hospital blankets, with dark brown hair, contrasting his white features, with piercing blue eyes.

"Morning Mister Harrison, how are you feeling?" Bones greets the man courteously, picking up the clipboard and scanning through the latest reports.

"Quite better Doctor McCoy." Harrison manages to say without his voice cracking.

Bones nods in acknowledgement, "Mister Harrison, I brought in your rescuer to see you."

Jim flinches at the title. He is no rescuer; he let all those people die. They all died on that boat but that damned man in the bed. How can he possibly be some sort of savior to this man? He should be the last person Harrison wants to see after all of that.

Slowly, Jim comes to the bedside, a smile quirking in the corner of his lips. Harrison reaches his frail hand out to shake and Jim meets it.

"Jim Kirk."

"John Harrison."

Jim's dark blue eyes meet Harrison's light blue.

"Pleasure to meet you." Jim says almost robotically, "Oh please, the pleasure is all mine." Harrison replies, releasing Jim's hand.

"Alright, I'm going to head out, I'll be in to check on you later Mister Harrison." Bones quickly excuses himself from the room, disappearing behind the door, leaving Jim alone.

"I wish to properly thank you Kirk, for saving my life." Harrison explains, taking large breaths between words, and Jim only takes one more glance at the door before giving his attention to the man before him.

"Oh, there's no need for that." Jim waves him off, but the survivor shakes his head, "Kirk, you saved me from that raft and that means something to me."

Jim swallows, "I was just doing my job."

Harrison nods, "Of course."

There's a pause as the man breathes in and out slowly.

"May I ask you some questions?"

He nods, "Of course, ask away."

Jim pulls up a stool and sits beside Harrison obediently, watching the man as he formulates his questions. His heart begins to beat within his chest and he can feel a flush of heat run into his cheeks as he thinks of the word 'rescuer'. He saved nobody, Bones doesn't know what he's talking about.

"Are you the captain Mister Kirk?"

"Yes." Jim replies and Harrison hums, "Mind if I call you captain then?"

"No, go ahead Mister Harrison."

Harrison smiles, but it fades quickly, "Captain, do you know the exact date of my rescue?"

"February eighteenth, nineteen fifty-two." Jim informs the man sternly, an odd expression resting on his face, today's the twenty-sixth, it's only been ten days since that night.

"And captain, do you know what type of boat you were sent out to rescue?"

Jim worries his lower lip as he thinks, "No Mister Harrison, I don't quite know. The lighthouse that spotted you couldn't quite tell what you were sailing."

Harrison shakes his head, "It was a little old cruise boat, captain, from the nineteen forties."

He doesn't say anything, just keeps his mouth shut and nods. Jim's still not quite sure why he's even here. He just assumed Harrison would thank him and send him on his way, but apparently not.

"Do you know how many people were on that boat?"

"Seventeen." He announces, his voice cracking at the end and he quickly coughs to clear his throat, "There was seventeen people."

"How many did you save captain?"

Jim licks his lips, wringing his hands out nervously, "One."

Harrison stares at him deeply before tearing his gaze away, blinking up at the ceiling from his hospital bed, "They were my family captain, and I need a way to respect them captain, to honor their lives."

Something twists within Jim's gut and suddenly he feels sick.

"And how do you plan to do that Mister Harrison?" He barely breathes out, meeting Harrison's menacing gaze.

"How do you think, Captain Kirk?"

Jim hops from his stool, heart pounding in his ears, lungs pushing against his chest. He takes a few steps away, somehow fearing the weak man before him.

Harrison shrugs in his bed, "I didn't really expect an answer, it was rhetorically anyways."

Jim just keeps staring in disbelief.

John Harrison turns his head to meet his eyes, "Goodbye Captain Kirk, I'm sure we'll be meeting again soon."

Nodding, he backs away and makes for the door before the survivor's voice stops him, "Wait, one last thing captain."

Jim turns, holding his breath.

"Thank your shipmates for me, I know they played part in the rescue as well."

The blond nods, "Of course. Goodbye Mister Harrison."

"Goodbye captain."

The voice chases him out the door and down the hall. By the time he makes it through the hospital exit he's stumbling and throwing up into the nearest dumpster he can find. Well, there goes his breakfast.

He wipes his mouth with a shaky arm, blinking rapidly to clear the stars in his vision. Something's wrong about that man. And did Harrison just…threaten him?

Jim shakes his head. No, Harrison wouldn't do that. Maybe he just interpreted it wrong.

Sighing, Jim forces his legs to carry him away, towards Scotty's Bar.

Time is a blur as his feet take him along the familiar path, winding between buildings, heading out towards the calling ocean where Scotty's Bar sits nestled amongst the fancy restaurants. The bar itself is no better than a trashy motel, but Scotty's family has had the bar for three generations and stubbornly refused to sell out. Scotty, or Montgomery Scot, is from Scottish decent, obviously, the reason why the family chose to move from their homeland to here is beyond Jim. California is no better than any other place around here.

Upon pushing the door open, the welcoming smell of ocean air and bourbon floods his nostrils, calming his senses. And he nearly forgets his conversation with Harrison, nearly.

"Aww, Jim laddie, glad to see ya. Especially after ya last mission." Scotty calls from behind the counter, his red hair slicked back and a fuzzy beard prickling in along his jaw line, "How ya holding up?"

Jim takes the open chair at the counter, offering Scotty his best smile, "Doin' better Scotty, but I'd be even better with a few drinks in my system."

"Aye, that's what I thought laddie." Scotty gives him a wink, about to grab for the usual beer, but Jim stops him, "Give me some of your whiskey this time."

Scotty frowns at him, but nonetheless pulls the amber liquid from the cabinet and snatching a glass for him.

"That bad ehh?"

Jim just nods, accepting the drink.

Scotty leans towards him over the countertop, "Aye, don't tell the other fellas, but this one is on the house, 'ight?"

The blond grins, "Alright, thanks Scotty."

"No problem laddie." Scotty braces his arms against the edge of the counter, "How's the doc doin'?"

"He's doin' fine. Working a shift right now at the hospital."

Scotty nods knowingly, "Aye, he seems to overwork himself. He'll probably need a few drinks himself when he gets here."

Jim chuckles, "Yeah, he probably will."

The Scotsman meets his smile, "Aye, I'ma' leave ya to that."

"Thanks Scotty."

"Don't mention it."

The Scottish bartender then turns away, attending to his other customers, leaving Jim to his thoughts.

Jim huffs, staring down into his glass, hand resting on the tips of the cup, the pad of his index finger tracing around the edges. His thoughts swarm him, pulling him back into that hospital room with John Harrison, with his piercing gaze. It seemed like the man could stare straight through him and into his soul, an certainly not in the romantic kind of way.

They always said the eyes were the window to the soul, but what exactly do Harrison's pastel blue eyes say about him?

He shrugs away his thoughts and downs the rest of his drink, waiting patiently for Scotty to refill his glass with an understanding look in his eyes. Jim has known the Scotsman for quite some time, back when he was training to become part of the Coast Guard, he'd crash into this little pub for a drink and slowly but surely the two got to know each other.

By the third drink, with time a ticking wonder, Bones enters the bar, wearing a jacket over his hospital scrubs.

"Hey Jim." Bones trots up to him, a soft smile playing on the southerner's lips, "Hey Bones." He replies, meeting the grin.

But the southern doctor frowns at his drink, "Whiskey huh? Something go wrong?"

Jim shakes his head, "Nah, just brought up some memories, that's all."

His friend purses his lips, but nonetheless nods and takes a seat beside him.

"You gonna be okay during your shift?" Bones prompts, signaling Scotty to get his usual bourbon, "Yeah, yeah. Commander Pike is having me stay inside, maybe tie up a few boats, that's all." Jim responds, taking a sip of his drink.

"Alright, well I'll be able to give you a ride over; you said your shift starts at two yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we got a few hours then."


	4. Unlikely Happenings

**Sweet Waiting**

 **Chapter 4: Unlikely Happenings**

Jim's shift was a drag. Commander Pike kept him inside, working communications and scrubbing dishes for the most part, which made the time only pass more slowly. Though, there might be some action on the way. According to Pavel Chekov, who runs all communications and also works as their radar technician, there's a storm brewing up further west, might hit Oregon-or northern California. How big the storm is, they don't know.

Or it could pass them completely.

Rubbing his neck, Jim sighs. His neck aches from looking down at the sink all day, helping the cook dish out a few plates to working coast guards.

At eight, Bones roles in with his dirty pickup truck, honking the horn to let him know he's there to pick him up. Jim has a motorcycle he rides, but during the cold months Bones doesn't let him ride it, instead he's forced to have his best friend pick him up like a little kid.

He groans, snatching his coat and popping his arms through it, saying quick goodbyes to Chekov and Sulu before heading out.

The cold winter air hits him the second he steps out, breath fogging before him like fluffy puffs of steam out of a train. Another honk from Bones gets him moving faster to the car, grumbling the whole way there. Damn southerner, has zero patience.

"Impatient bastard." Jim mutters, swinging the door open and promptly sitting down and continuing to slam the door.

Bones cringes, "Don't vent on my baby."

"It's an inanimate object Bones, it can't feel me slamming it." Jim retorts, shaking his head, "Yeah well, remind me to key your motorcycle when we get home, see how that feels." Bones replies, smirking at Jim's disgusted face.

"Now that would be damaging private property Bones."

Bones huffs, "Yeah, and you slamming my door off of its hinges isn't damaging?"

He rolls his eyes, "Damaging what? Your car or your eardrums?"

"Well now that you mention it, maybe a bit of both."

"Ugh," Jim massages his temples, "Can we just go home?"

There's a sigh and Bones' playful tone softens, "Yeah, I'll take you home."

Jim lets the familiar gurgling hum of the engine calm him, watching through the window as the ocean disappears from sight and is replaced by large buildings and bundled people. The wintery weather is leaving quickly, soon to be replaced by springtime, which means Bones will let him ride his motorcycle.

"How was work?"

He shrugs, barely casting Bones a glance, "It was okay."

Bones hums, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, "Are you okay?"

Jim nods, turning his head to meet Bones' rich hazel eyes, "Yeah, I'm okay."

The southerner gives him a squint and Jim smiles and shakes his head, "Hey, better not lie to me Jim-you know where liars go?"

He nearly sighs, he's heard this one countless times.

"Hell, Bones. They go to hell."

Bones nods dramatically, "That's right kid."

"Did they teach you that one down south?"

His friend snorts, "Ah, us southerners aren't scared of hell Jim."

Jim turns away, "Certainly didn't teach any of you guys manners."

"What's that Jim? Did ya say something about my southern charm?" Bones pipes up, slowing the car down for a few pedestrians scurrying across the street.

"All nice things. I promise Bones." Jim grins, earning a smack to the shoulder, "What did I just say about lying kid?"

Bones swings the car into the gravel parking lot for their apartment building. Jim huffs as the engine is turned off and the car fades slowly away with the night.

"Hungry much?"

Jim shakes his head, "I don't think we have food in the house."

Bones hums, "You're probably right."

The two of them don't eat dinner that night, but if Jim wakes up with Bones snuggled up beside him, neither of them mention it in the morning.

Jim's called into full time on Wednesday afternoon, Bones dropping him off during his lunch break, though the doctor appeared to be distressed, and when asked he got shrugged off.

He then spends the time tying up boats and sitting on watch at one of their towers. Sitting against the railing beside him is Sulu, having his back towards the raging waters. Jim continues his stance, peering into his binoculars.

All that's out there is waves, standing tall with foaming snouts, screaming as they crash against the rocks. As beautiful as the sight is, it's also worrisome. He's never seen the ocean so angry before, not since his disaster of a mission.

"Pav says the storm is only going to get worse." Sulu shouts over the winds.

Jim glances down briefly, and then proceeds to look back out. There could be a boat out there.

Hikaru sighs and Jim feels his gaze upon him, "How are you holding up?"

He drops the binoculars, letting them hang loosely around his neck, "Doin' better. I think working is helping."

"That's what they all say."

Jim plops down beside him, letting the ocean become a white noise in the background.

"Just how worse is this storm going to get?"

Sulu shrugs, "I dunno, I don't think we've ever had a storm hit so low on the west coast. Even when we do get storms it usually hits Oregon or Washington-though even then it's highly unlikely, but San Diego? That's unheard of."

Jim purses his lips, glancing over his shoulder to watch the crashing waves, "It's unnatural."

"Quite so I'm afraid."

After their shift they head back, noticing the dropping temperature.

"I don't think it's ever gotten this cold in San Diego before." Sulu comments, rubbing his arms.

Jim nods, the coastal city never really left the temperature range of fifty-to-eighty degrees Fahrenheit. And now that Sulu mentions it, he's been seeing more and more people bundled up in coats. Especially in February.

What is even happening anymore?

They walk to the station, welcoming the familiar warmth.

"Hello guys." Chekov greets, the cheeky Russian boy smiling with energy.

Sulu matches the grin, giving his friend a quick side hug, "Hey Pav, make sure you bring your coat tomorrow, it's getting cold."

Chekov waves him off, scoffing, "In Russia, little kids wear shorts and t-shirts in ten below-I don't need a coat."

Sulu grunts, "Yeah okay Pav."

Jim shakes his head, grinning, but taking things onto a more serious note, "How's that storm doing?"

Pavel's smile fades away, "Not too good, she's getting closer. Commander Pike has ordered a constant watch on it, and if it gets closer within the next twenty hours, we're going to have to call in all boats to dock."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't get any closer." Jim replies and Sulu nods his agreement.

At the end of his shift, Bones comes to pick him up, as always, but this time, there's a look of dread across his face. He knew something had been bugging the southerner but he didn't know it was this bad.

Settling inside the truck he glances over, buckling blindly, "Bones, what's going on?"

"It's Harrison." Bones says, gazing off towards the shoreline, the window fogged from the change of temperature, "What about him?" He implores curiously, brows furrowing in curiosity.

Bones sighs, meeting his gaze with such uncertainty that it makes Jim's heart stop beating for a moment, "He's gone Jim, he ran away."


End file.
